


Diamond Doll

by V_Prime



Series: A King's Journey [3]
Category: Dappervolk (Video Game)
Genre: Begging, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, Flirting, M/M, Magic, Pai isn't around to wash Oran's mouth out with soap, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Rough sex but it's surprisingly gentle, Scents & Smells, Smut, Teasing, Teasing with cock, WAP, as in being a cockslut for cock, but only kind of, cockslut, let's make a deal, sniffing, transmasc character, you smell like gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:29:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_Prime/pseuds/V_Prime
Summary: Sometimes, when you haggle with a merchant, it's more than money that trades hands.Oran knows how to strike a deal.
Series: A King's Journey [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966381
Kudos: 3





	Diamond Doll

Because he needed to go to Peddler’s Port (to peddle the things he’d found underwater), Zuzélan had finally left Vaer Reef, hoping Pyrifera had enough medicinal plants to last her a while. He didn’t know _why_ he cared, exactly—some part of his brain, beneath all the amnesia, wanted everyone to have enough of what they needed. 

While 9ine scuttled down the road Zuzélan knew led to the Port, he lazily sat at the helm of the massive crab and turned water vapor into clean water, both for him to drink and to keep 9ine happy on the trip. Zuzélan took the path that was close to the coast, with cliffs on either side of them—one dropping sharply down, and the other stretching towards the sky. It was treacherous, but quick, and 9ine knew how to be careful. Plus, the view of the beautiful, sparkling water in the distance was homey; it reminded Zuzélan of himself. 

He’d been compared to the ocean and night sky more times than he could count, with his moderately short, electric blue hair, dappled blue skin, and blank golden eyes that could almost be mistaken for stars. Someone in Vaer—a child—had asked him if he had diamonds in his skin, and Zuzélan hadn’t known how to explain that that was just how his skin _was._ He looked like the stars reflected off the ocean at night. He liked to imagine that it was normal, wherever he came from.

Sighing, he pulled his hair back into a short ponytail to let the breeze cool his neck while he baked under the sun. He was dressed simply today, in a thin white v-neck shirt and a pair of yellow shorts that barely covered his thighs. It was too hot out of the water to wear armor, and he felt slightly exposed—but comforted knowing Wras wouldn’t be this far inland, so the armor wasn’t completely necessary. 

It was early afternoon when he finally saw Peddler’s Port on the horizon; 9ine brought him right up to the edge of the town, where he slid off the crab’s back. 9ine obediently took off to go curl up in their shell in the shallows of the ocean nearby, waiting for Zuzélan to finish up his business in the merchant’s town. 

Holding a large duffel bag in one hand, Zuzélan set off, immediately greeted by Nico. He gave them a nonchalant hello, not even bothering to stop and look at the clothes they were selling; he had enough clothes. No, Zuzélan was looking for Pai or Oran; he preferred Oran, because he was easier to haggle with and not as shrewd as Pai—and luck favored him when he saw a shock of pink hair idly reading a book at the stall. Sure, Pai was out too, but it was usually the blue-eyed blue-horned brother who took “breaks” and left Pai to watch both stalls on their own, and made it harder to pin him down. 

To get Oran’s attention, Zuzélan tossed the duffel bag onto a free spot on the counter. He spoke before Oran had a chance to, though he’d torn his eyes from the book at the prospect of new stuff. “Everything in this bag is worth something. I want fifty thousand potatoes.” Zuzélan rested his arms and elbows on the stall, putting his weight on it to wait for Oran to catch up. He leaned forward a bit, if only just to seem more confident, looking up at the much larger merchant, playing the merchant’s game. 

“Hang on there, King!” Oran laughed and started to unzip the bag, using the nickname he’d given Zuzélan the first time they’d met—something about the armor and cape made Zuzélan look like a king, he said. Zuzélan suspected he was just too lazy to use a three syllable name. “I need to look at what you’ve brought first, yeah?” 

“Obviously.” Zuzélan brushed a tendril of hair out of his eyes while Oran took the items out of the bag and set them up on the table, one by one: A deep green bracelet carved from jade, a handful of shimmering opal pearls, an old dagger intricately carved from the tusk of a sea animal, a bottle of wine, a handful of coins as well as some ancient polyhedrons whose faces had no numbers, only symbols. The final item was a jeweled box that opened to reveal a diorama of a small goat figure hugging another figure that slowly spun while it played a tinkling song. The clear, simple notes made Zuzélan feel bittersweet. 

“Hmm, what makes you think all this is worth fifty thousand?” Oran asked, rolling one of the pearls in his fingers and giving Zuzélan direct eye contact. He knew how to play this game, even better than Zuzélan did—but where he lacked experience, he made up for with his stern, stony personality, and Oran knew just as well as he did that Zuzélan would sooner walk away than take less than what he wanted. 

“The vintner of that wine only made a hundred bottles, the label is faded but you can see it.” Zuzélan spun the bottle to point at where the label said ‘Bottle 5/100’ for Oran. “Those pearls are from oysters that are hard to harvest, but I expect they were part of a broken necklace, so I don’t think they’re worth much. The bracelet is pure jade, without any impurities that’ll cause it to break.” Zuzélan shrugged. “You’re the expert here, though.” 

Oran laughed and dropped the pearl onto the counter, where it bounced and rolled into Zuzélan’s arm. “Guess you did your research, huh? Honestly, I’m more interested in this.” Oran tapped the gem-encrusted box. “It’s a Dream box, made by a famous fox artist. He made sixteen. This was the final one, you got lucky. Anyway, I’ll give you thirty for everything.” 

“Sixty,” Zuzélan deadpanned, and Oran gave him a good natured groan of frustration. 

“What if I throw in some stuff from my stall?” Oran jerked his head to draw Zuzélan’s eyes to the wares behind him, but Zuzélan didn’t look away. 

“The point of selling this stuff is so I can downsize on things I don’t need.” Zuzélan shook his head, finally breaking eye contact. “Sixty, like I said.” 

“Aww, come on!” Oran complained. “I have to make a profit too, you know! I’m not a charity.” He huffed and fingered one of the pearls again, passing it from one hand to another. 

“Maybe a little less profit than you think, if you want this stuff.” Zuzélan shrugged again. 

Oran seemed _actually_ frustrated now, looking down at the counter with a frown. Zuzélan gave him silence while he thought, then tilted his head to the side when Oran looked up with a grin. “Okay, how about this,” he said, planting his hand on the counter for leverage while he leaned over to get close to Zuzélan’s face. His other hand cupped his mouth and the shell of Zuzélan’s ear, and he said, in a low voice, “I give you forty, yeah? And a little something extra for your trouble.” To make it even more plain, his eyes lowered until he was looking down Zuzélan’s v-neck, at his flat chest.

Zuzélan saw where _this_ was going, but he pretended not to—though he kept his voice as low as Oran’s, and shifted so that his shirt opened a little more. “Like what?” 

“You’ll have to come to my tent, it’s too big to bring out here.” And he winked, then pulled away, but one of his hands stayed on Zuzélan’s, where he stroked it lightly with his thumb. Zuzélan was the one to pull away, but he walked around the counter and towards the tent. As he pulled the tent flap open to step inside, he heard Oran yelling at Pai to watch his stall. 

The tent was roomy, large and square in shape with a high ceiling, and it smelled of magnolia flowers, musk, and wood. The inside was packed with colorful wares from floor to ceiling, but there was a couch next to a huge stack of books; since Zuzélan didn’t see a bed, he walked over to what he decided to call the book corner, because there were clearly more books here than anything else in the tent. He ran his fingers over some of the volumes, reading the titles while he waited; Oran only bothered to remove his jacket before he sat on the couch, shirtless but still with his pants on. “C’mere,” he motioned, patting his thigh, and Zuzélan stopped exploring the books. So they could match, Zuzélan pulled his shirt off then he did as he was told and sat on Oran’s lap, with one knee to either side of him. One hand rubbed at Oran’s shoulder while the other one explored his chest.

Oran’s body wasn’t tight and muscled like Wras’, but instead had a soft layer of padding. His waist still tapered sharply, giving him a nice, cut shape. Oran didn’t waste time either, already letting his hands explore Zuzélan too. “Man, we should have done this a year ago, King. Fuck,” 

A growing bump beneath Zuzélan’s groin let him know exactly how much Oran was enjoying himself. “Mmm. You should have asked.” 

“You just seemed so closed off, babe, I thought you’d tell me no. What can I say? Rejection is hard for me.” He pulled Zuzélan forward so that his head was in the crook of Zuzélan’s neck. He inhaled deeply. “Gods, you smell good. Like vetiver and ylang-ylang. Is that natural, babe?” 

“I think so. I take it you like smells,” Zuzélan surmised, while Oran slowly and rhythmically rolled his hips up and against him. Zuzélan lightly kissed his small, fringed ear that could almost be mistaken for a wing—like a smaller version of Pai’s. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Oran groaned. “Tell me what I smell like,” 

If Zuzélan thought his request was weird, he didn’t say so. Instead he nuzzled against Oran’s cheek to smell his neck too. “You smell like bluebells… and amaretto. Almonds, I guess. Flowers and almonds, and vanilla. It’s sweet… but it fits you.” He trailed his hand down the center of Oran’s chest, down his stomach, and onto his pants. Oran groaned into his neck, and Zuzélan unbuttoned his pants to free his hard cock. 

A quick glance between his legs told him that Oran’s cock was just as multihued as Oran himself; its base was blue, shifting to a ombre of pink at the top. In shape, it was twisted like a unicorn’s horn, but it didn’t come to a point. Instead, the head was large and blunt. 

Scooting forward, Zuzélan trapped his cock between Oran’s stomach and his own pussy, rubbing his lips through his shorts. “I didn’t think a cock could smell like flowers too, but I was wrong. Musk and flowers…” Zuzélan mused, kissing Oran’s jaw lightly. 

Groaning, Oran crushed Zuzélan to his chest. “You’re gonna make me bust, King, stop it.” Then he laughed. “Driving me crazy here, do you do that to everyone?” 

“Do what?” Zuzélan pressed his slit more tightly against Oran’s cock. 

“Act like a little tease.” Oran laughed, then pulled the tie keeping Zuzélan’s hair up so he could bury his nose in his hair and inhale deeply. 

The teasing comment made _Zuzélan_ want to laugh. “I think I’d rather be labeled a slut. I’m technically a prostitute right now, aren’t I? How many potatoes is this worth? Ten thousand? Twenty, if you count the sixty figure.” 

“I guess you’re my slut good for one fuck, then, aren’t you?” Oran brushed Zuzélan’s hair out of his eyes, then smiled. “Then you can go back to being a King. For now though… get that wet puss on my cock before I bust on my chest instead of inside you. I bet you’d be more disappointed than me that you didn’t get a huge load in you, huh?” 

Hiding a smile, Zuzélan shook his head at Oran before he pushed his shorts to the side and maneuvered Oran’s cock to rub against his wet pussy. He sighed and let it rub against his clit for a few moments, savoring the thrill of satisfaction he could feel building up. 

As much as he’d begged Zuzélan to stick it in, Oran seemed to be enjoying it too. He threw his head back against the couch and ran his fingers through the pink and blue fringe across his forehead, like he couldn’t believe this was happening to him. His horns almost punctured the side of the tent. “Gods. Just… gods.” 

Deciding to tease him a little, Zuzélan used two fingers to guide Oran’s cock to his hole and slip just the head inside. Using his legs and thighs, he lifted himself up and down so that no more than an inch of Oran was inside him at a time, using the groans from his current partner as a guide. “C’mon, doll, you’re killing me,” His head was still on the back of the couch, and he still had a fistful of his own hair. 

“No, I’m fucking you,” Zuzélan corrected him. “So unless you plan to make me… I’m happy to do this until I come.” He kept sliding the cock barely in and out, while Oran processed what he said. 

Finally, it clicked, and he lifted his head to regard Zuzélan. “Oh, so it’s like that, huh? Naughty bitch, I guess. Let me give you what you want.” He pulled his hand away from his hair and pulled Zuzélan closer instead, until they were nose to nose. His other hand searched and felt between them, slowly snaking down to grab his own cock. He pulled it out to rub against Zuzélan’s clit again. “Didn’t someone ever teach you not to tease people who are stronger than you?” His grip tightened, and he grinned when Zuzélan winced at the nails digging into his skin. Then he lined up the head of his cock with Zuzélan’s pussy and forced his hips down, bringing his cock up to the hilt. Then he caught Zuzélan’s mouth in a kiss, tasting each other’s floral scent. 

To keep up the charade, Oran lightly bit at Zuzélan’s bottom lip, catching it between his teeth for a brief moment as he pulled away. Zuzélan’s face betrayed nothing, but the tightening in his thighs said it all. Oran’s hands traveled down his partner’s back and slipped into his shorts to grip his ass. “Man, it’s a shame I didn’t get to see this out of those shorts.” He let Zuzélan bury his face in his neck, and Oran gave him a moment to adjust to the full length and girth of his cock. “Next time, huh?” 

“Next time,” Zuzélan panted. “Don’t want to get up to take off my shorts,” 

“What, you like my cock _that_ much? I’m flattered.” He grinned, though Zuzélan couldn’t see it. He could still feel, though, and Oran took a tight hold on his ass to move Zuzélan’s hips for him. “Gonna use you like my own personal doll. Hope you don’t mind, babe.” He didn’t wait for a response; he didn’t need to, because he felt Zuzélan squeeze down on his cock at his words and it told him everything he needed to know. 

With his strong hands, he lifted Zuzélan by the ass and thighs then brought him back down, fucking himself with Zuzélan’s pussy while the worldhopper threw his arms around Oran’s neck and squeezed. He let Oran use him like a fleshlight, and when he felt the orgasm building he let go with one arm to reach between them and rub at his clit in small, slow circles that contrasted well with the heavy, forceful pulls from Oran. “Harder,” he whispered into Oran’s ear. 

Instead of going harder, though, he slowed down to a maddening pace, using Zuzélan for long, patient strokes instead. “Nah, I want to savor this. Soll only knows the next time I’ll get in your frigid pants.” Zuzélan tried to rock his hips faster, but there was a resonant slap as Oran smacked his ass and gripped his skin to force him to still. “If you’re gonna be like that, I won’t move at all. How’s that, doll?” He laughed and gave Zuzélan a peck on the cheek, forcing them to both be still. 

Though Zuzélan knew Oran wanted to move just as badly as he wanted Oran to move (judging by the way his cock was twitching inside of him), he knew he wouldn’t win this battle of wills. Oran was younger, but he had more experience in being patient and cutting deals, and sticking to his guns. It didn’t help that he was stubborn, and enjoying this. Zuzélan did everything he could to make Oran move, from squeezing down on his cock to planting kisses on his neck, but he wouldn’t budge. 

Finally, in a strained voice, Zuzélan said “Please. I’ll stop, you can use me however you want. Just please move.” They were both sweating, making both of their scents that much stronger—more musk than floral, now. 

“That’s more like it, doll.” He slowly started moving Zuzélan’s hips again, relishing the slow pace—and his win. “Now you’re using your head. If you’d’a just listened, we could have been doing this the whole time.” He sped up a little, and Zuzélan rubbed his clit faster, but then Oran slowed down again. 

Back and forth it went until Zuzélan had to bite Oran’s bare shoulder, both in aggravation and desire. “Please,” he asked again, muffled by Oran’s blushed skin. 

“Please what?” 

“Please cum inside me,” Zuzélan said. His voice didn’t waver, but his body language said it all. He was bitey, his thighs were quivering, his pussy ached (and had Oran’s balls soaked), and his breathing was uneven. “I need you to cum inside me.” 

“You need it, huh? Well, in that case…” Oran grabbed both of Zuzélan’s hands with one of his, holding them behind his back to keep him from touching his clit. With his other hand, he once again lifted Zuzélan up and down, more quickly this time. Finally, the sweet relief of getting fucking railed.

Oran kept pulling his arms back, until Zuzélan’s back was bowed and they were both thrusting their hips. “Get ready, babe, you’re about to take a big load. I’ve been saving it up all week, the gods must’ve known you were gonna come crawling into my tent like the cock-hungry fuckdoll you are. Fuck,” he grunted, before going still. 

Zuzélan felt him cum inside, too many shots to count, adding to the sloppy wet mess Zuzélan had already been making. He shuddered and allowed Oran to fill him up, then gently released his hands to bring him forward into a crushing hug. “Your turn, baby. I don’t have another load in me to give, but I’ll keep it hard for you.” He slid his hand between both of them and spread some of his cum onto Zuzélan’s clit, then let him take over and rub his own clit while Oran started to pick him up and fuck him again.

It only took a few hard thrusts for Zuzélan to moan and bury his face into Oran’s neck while he came, curling his toes and squeezing Oran’s sides with his knees. “Fuck,” he mumbled, chin on Oran’s shoulder. Zuzélan’s hips rocked of their own accord, riding out the high while Oran whispered encouragement in his ear. 

When he’d finally gone still, Zuzélan plonked his face against Oran’s chest to rest for a second, and Oran took the opportunity to say “You know I didn’t mean any of that, right, King? You’re way more than a sex doll.” 

It took Zuzélan a second to recognize the concern in his voice, and he chose his next words carefully, looking up at the larger man. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. So it’s nice to get it out of my system.” He paused, feeling some more cum slip out, and idly wondered how he was going to clean up. 

“Aww. It sucks that you feel that way.” Oran brushed Zuzélan’s hair back again, then made eye contact and smiled. “I had fun, and I wouldn’t mind doing that again… but take care of yourself, okay? 'Cause someone out there cares about you.” 

“Okay.” Zuzélan sighed and made to pull away, but Oran kept a firm hold on him and kissed his forehead, then wrapped his arms around Zuzélan in a tight, crushing hug. He let it happen, because honestly it felt nice. “I’m going to need a new pair of shorts, too. Mine are full of cum for some reason.” 

“For some reason,” Oran agreed, finally letting Zuzélan stand up. Oran stood up and pulled his pants completely off, rifling through bags for a new pair; he tossed Zuzélan a pair of shorts, then dug out a pair of pants for himself and got dressed again while Zuzélan pulled off his. “Consider the shorts a gift,” Oran winked, slipping out of the tent. 

Zuzélan pulled on the pair of shorts and his discarded shirt, then followed him out. He blinked in the bright sun, and noted that Oran was counting out coins. “Almost got forty thousand potatoes,” Oran assured him. “All in five thousand coins, since I’m low on tens.” 

“Okay.” Zuzélan leaned against the counter and stared out at the sea, letting Oran’s words from earlier bounce around in his head while he waited for payment for the useless trinkets. Zuzélan hadn’t thought the merchants in the Port his friends… but maybe he was wrong about that.

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for Kinktober Day 10: Dirty talk. I hope you enjoyed! Comments are always welcome.


End file.
